(Or roundabout I discover)...past the arch in the photo above.
We continued for a short bit stopping at a small Harley shop and art gallery space.
~Road Trip in Sedona, AZ in 2009~
I have wanted to go back to Sedona...and Flagstaff, for that matter, ever since that 2009 trip.
But, until that possible time, I am somewhat ridiculously relieved to finally have a name and actual location for the above memory!
↔ ↔ ↔ ↔ ↔ ↔
On a smaller scale, closer to home, I've been trouble-shooting my way through the first steps of Orlo's Christmas Stocking. There has been an awful lot of that problem solving, along with trial & error, doing & undoing and slow going. but, I'm not detoured. I just keep going.
First thought was to use these old shorts from my High School days and that handy removable cross stitch fabric. You know, the kind that after stitching, you get it damp and pull those threads out.
After several mistakes and trying again...I gave up on that idea. Can you see how those little threads are doubled? Way to wreck your dry eyes!
On to my next idea of using regular cross stitch cloth and layering it on top of the old corduroy shorts fabric, once the name was stitched on. I was pleased with this mistake and change of plans because the green really didn't show up that well on the brown corduroy. But the new cross stitch fabric looked SO BRIGHT after staring at brown corduroy! So, into the tea dye it went!
I'm always fascinated with the lights and darks, nooks and crannies, shadowy images
in a dye jar.
They remind me of the lesson on "subliminal messages" from a High School English class unit on advertising. We studied those old ads for Whiskey, where supposedly there were sexy women hidden in the ice cubed drink delight!
Anyway, the cross stitch fabric looks much better now
and will fit in well with the old corduroy.
If my tired eyes could just get it done.
I wasn't too sure what all I had for the stocking liner.
Then I remembered I had some muslin, so into the dye jar it went too!
His stocking will smell like Ginger Tea!
↔ ↔ ↔ ↔ ↔ ↔
*Imagine this as the Presidential Race (I couldn't find a better pic!)
I told J that children should Trick-or-Treat as Steve Kornacki!
Such an easy costume, right?
Tan pants, glasses, button down shirt and a tie....rolled up piece of paper in hand
and a poster board of the "Big Board" .
J said that it was a good joke in the house, but not to do for reals...because it isn't ScaryEnough! I quickly retorted, Make the whole map red, that'll be scary!
Ha
As we wind down these last days to our future of our world election,
Song
of the Sky Loom O,
Mother the Earth, O Father the Sky, weave
for us now the garment of brightness,
the
warp, the white light of morning, the
weft, the red glow of evening, the
fringes of the soft rain, the
border of the soaring rainbow.
Weave for us this
garment so that we may,
in
full presence and gratitude, walk where
birds sing, and where grasses are green;
O
Mother the Earth; O Father the Sky.
Traditional Tewa,
Translated
by H. J. Spinden Version
by Denis Donnelly
⇄ ⇆
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-uz3EeZUAg
Time
Forwards
Backwards
My time
Your time
It's time
Time waits for no man
Time
is on my side
There’s
no time like the present
All in good time
My
time is my own
Timing is everything
⇄ ⇆
I've felt a bit off my recent game.
Recent being staying in, covid days game.
⇄ ⇆
Since Michelle's passing,
I've traveled back in time on her blog, my blog, Jude's blog.
What I've noticed is Michelle's blog was such a wealth of...
Everything!
It is the story of who she was.
I miss her.
Pomegranate by Michelle
⇄ ⇆
“Perfection Wasted” by John Updike
And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market –
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
to the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone.The memories packed
in the rapid-access file.The whole act.
Who will do it again?That’s it; no one;
imitators and descendants aren’t the same.
⇄ ⇆
I relished the robust nature of Michelle's posts, which included links, videos, her own poetry or art and that of others, and her photographs. Those posts, those photos, the delights in her sidebar, letting me see the world through her eyes. I didn't always have time for the researched fullness, especially while working and commuting, but each and every post offered me something to hold dear, to learn from, to embrace.
So, I've spent time reading that poetry, following those links and studying those photos.
⇄ ⇆
Birdwings
Your grief
for what you've lost lifts a mirror up to where you are bravely working.
Expecting
the worst, you look, and instead, here's the joyful face you've been wanting to
see.
Your hand
opens and closes and opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always
stretched open, you would be paralyzed.
Your
deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as
beautifully balanced and coordinated as birdwings.
(from The
Essential Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks with John Moyne)
⇄ ⇆
On Jude's blog I was delighted to see things I'd not seen,
to see so many now friends ~ when this was new and folks were first arriving
and many firsts before my time joining the community.
⇄ ⇆
Some people weave
burlap into the fabric of our lives,
and some weave gold thread.
Both
contribute to make
the whole picture beautiful and unique."
-Anonymous
⇄ ⇆
I spent time at Jude's watching her first posted videos, witnessing the birth of symbols, techniques and ideas, remembering some old cloths or being introduced (way after the fact) to others and I read so many comments!
Looking back this way, it really is such an amazing, special, fantastic thing that evolved over all these years. The community that has grown and become, is something I really treasure. Many do as read over and over in her comment threads at times of change (both blog and world). The community that has threaded comments late into the night filled with laughter and some wine. Life is rich when traveled with those that care.
~As I add the quote above, I am watching the helicopter lift off, taking the president to Walter Reed...at that exact moment, a helicopter flies above my own home in a completely surreal scene, setting sun reflected on the side of the aircraft~
⇄ ⇆
On my blog, I noticed so many things way back that still apply today.
For some reason, I felt driven to know
when I first met Michelle,
when I first joined the Spirit Cloth community?
I searched and read,
I kinda wallowed in these places in the past.
The present was not quite as appealing,
the future so uncertain.
⇄
I invite you to step into another world,
An older and slower one,
Where what counts is precisely that...going slowly,
Calming down, leaving judgements behind,
And creating things in a day...for yourself.
~Raul Acero
⇄ ⇆
The video above is from the first time Michelle visited and commented on my blog.
How Perfectly Fitting!
⇄ ⇆
"The death of a beloved is an event that rings and rings
through life:
bearing it is not a problem to be
solved, but a long, slow piece of music to listen
to. And mourning, like music, is
best listened to with others." Sarah Miles
⇄ ⇆
This is such a strange time of loss and change.
Along with Michelle's passing, Grace's evacuation, Dee's brother,
Saskia's folks, Mo's dear friend...
and this new turn of events at the White House,
a lifetime friend has evacuated in Santa Rosa, CA
and a co-worker-friend has been admitted to the hospital
another co-worker's sister has a fatal brain disease
and a third lost a family member.
I switched to a taller candle,
it's needed.
Additionally, two couch recliner mechanisms
and a second hand-me-down iPad
are no longer working.
Not that those last two items really matter in the grand scheme of things,
just a bother of inconvenience and uncomfortableness.
And as a way of saying that y'all may see a bit less of me.
(It took me forever to create this post, what with
⇄ ⇆
I'd like to close with my own Wendell Berry,
in honor of Michelle's last post
and these trying times we find ourselves in now.
What We Need Is Here
Geese appear
high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.
Wendell Berry
⇄ ⇆
I'll end this book by saying we are all individuals, we are all geese within the flock.
